Spies and Scientists
by Bobbie23
Summary: The build up to the big day is stressful for everyone involved, not just the happy couple. Rating changed for chapter 4.
1. It was so obvious

**Disclaimer - I own nothing, just borrowing**

 **Special thanks to my wonderful beta Black' Victor Cachat**

Spies and Scientists

Chapter One – It was so obvious

"If you keep frowning like that, your face is going to stay that way," Laura teases as she winds her arms around his neck from behind.

"I'm still convinced they're messing with me," Clint murmurs defensively as he watches his best friend affectionately nuzzle, _nuzzle,_ Bruce Banner before sharing a quick peck on the lips with the bespectacled man. The couple then return their attention to Nathaniel who was wrinkling his nose at their rare public display of affection. For a moment Clint feels an affinity with his youngest till the five-year-old launches himself at the pair for a group hug. _Traitor._

"Well," Laura drawls as she moves around his chair and perches on the arm rest to take in his vantage point. Clint's arm snakes around her waist to settle a hand on her thigh. "They've been together for five years, and getting married in two days, so I think it's safe to say they're not."

He rolls his eyes at the teasing in her voice. "You could all be messing with me," he sulks, pouting up at her and earns himself a chuckle.

"I know you and Nat like to mess with each other, but this is a stretch, even for her," she consoles with a laugh. Laura was enjoying this far too much.

"I'm pretty sure she was joking about you wearing a neon pink dress to the ceremony, even if you are the _maid_ of honour," she adds after a second.

"Stark offered to wear the dress," Clint says distractedly and Laura rewards him with a melodic chuckle. He knew Nat wasn't serious about the monstrosity she presented to him in his dimensions.

"You were with them for all of thirty seconds and you knew," he grumbles at her. That still kind of stung and he often wonders if his wife has the ability to read minds or she really is _that_ good at reading people. Or at least better than him. Hmm.

She laughs again, melodic and sweet. "Five years ago, you were all standing in the middle of our living room looking lost and sorry for yourselves after having your asses handed to you," came the slightly blunt yet not unfeeling reply. "None of you really knew what you were looking for or needed, but whatever it was, Nat looked for it in Bruce and I've never seen her do that."

He waits a beat as that sinks in, remembering the quick glance Natasha shared Banner at the time and not thinking anything else of it. "I still don't know how any of this happened."

"Then it's a good thing we have a few years before you need to have the 'talk' with Coop," his wife's arm sneaks around his shoulder as she rests against him, her hand absentmindedly stroking his head like she does for the kids when they're ill or upset. "He's smart, sweet, and attentive," Banner's good qualities roll off her tongue easily as she had them prepared. "He's good for her," Laura concludes.

He makes a noise, not really agreeing or disagreeing. Laura's right, of course, she always is. After a long minute he sighs.

After a pause she bumps his shoulder. "She's good for him too."

He supposes that is how Natasha and Banner connected in the first place. She was good with him in the field. They developed the Lullaby in private, without distraction, something they rarely did in front of the team. Once established, their connection deepened and flourished into the strong coupling he now has the privilege to observe.

Clint often thinks if he had been privy to it he may have seen the attraction begin. Natasha doesn't expect or want his approval, and he would never attempt to give it. Clint trusts her ability to judge someone's character, and if she deems Banner good enough to spend her life with then that's good enough for Clint. He's just pissed at himself for missing the signs and that's embarrassing for him as he should see everything as an occasional glorified lookout, or so his wife, or Stark, like to remind him, though Laura phrases it much nicer.

In his defence, Natasha is the closest he has to a sister, and thinking of her romantically feels weird. She's never expressed interest in being in a relationship with anyone, seeming content to remain single.

He frowns at the couple as they release his squirming son, and he runs off to play with –correction, annoy– his sister. Banner's hand finds Natasha's, the gold band of her engagement ring flashing as their fingers slide between each other's, as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

Clint finds himself relaxing at the gesture. Of the two, Banner is more reserved, even if she, to other people, seemed to approach their relationship with her usual blend of neutral detachment. Clint can see through her façade, sees the tiny glint in her eyes, and notes the relaxed aura she exudes whenever Banner is around. Or at least he does now.

It is easy to misconceive the relationship as one-sided, Natasha giving more to the relationship than Banner. But a flick through the man's file, which Natasha will never find out about, reminded Clint that the scientist's heart had been broken before by walking away from his first love after his accident and Clint realised Banner was reluctant to expose Natasha to that. Clint couldn't blame him for that; he hides his own family in the middle of nowhere with plenty of contingencies in place for them if he ever has to walk away. He understands how hard it is to be in that position. There are times he wants more than that for Nat. Her heart is more fragile than she lets on.

She's changed so much since he met her all those years ago when she was barely more than a kid, full of so much anger. He's seen her simmering anger mellow, channelling it into helping people, unwavering in her dedication to cancel out her ledger. She is calmer than he's ever seen her, and not the façade she sometimes puts up. When she first came to the farm, she would hide her nightmares and sleepless nights from them, not wanting to be more of a burden than she already thought she was. She wasn't, not to them, but Clint and Laura were aware they never pushed her to talk about it unless she wanted to.

Now he rarely sees that far-away look in her eyes.

He eyes Banner for a second, noting the besotted expression he's aiming at Natasha as she tells him something Clint can't quite hear. It could be anything, and Clint bets Banner would be wearing the same attentive gaze, one which makes it clear he's utterly devoted to and enthralled by Nat. It's not the first time he's seen the look, won't be the last either. Nat's just as bad sometimes, she can watch the man for hours as he works quietly in the lab. Then there are times when they sync and their eyes would lock and it is as if the rest of the world disappears.

How the hell did he miss Nat falling for the freaking Hulk, when they were so obvious!?

"Aside from the kids, who else makes her smile like that," Laura surreptitiously points at the woman in question as she bestows a dazzling natural smile on her betrothed, as he returns one of his own, looking like love-sick puppies. Clint suspects it'll only get worse till they exchange vows. At least by then the rest of the Avengers and a few choice friends will have descended on the farm to watch the ceremony and he won't be alone in his aversion to their sickeningly sweet display. Stark usually voices his own sarcastic commentary which encourages rather than deters the couple.

"If you weren't happy for them, you wouldn't have spent the last two days in the barn building that arch for them to get married under," Laura says.

He _is_ happy for them, he's just sorry he missed watching his best friend fall in love. Banner tugs Natasha into a loose embrace as they watch the Barton children run around the field chasing each other happily.

"I guess," Clint agrees after a moment.

"Just give me fair warning if you are going to try to give the big brother talk to the Hulk," Laura tells him with a consoling pat on the shoulder. "Nat and I will want front row seats."


	2. There Shall Be Beer and Strippers…

**Thank you all for such a great response to the first chapter, I wanted to write something (hopefully) fun and light hearted. I haven't given up on** _ **Rooftop Conversations,**_ **this is just a short interlude while I write the next chapter. Big thanks to my beta, Black' Victor Cachat.**

Spies and Scientists

Chapter Two – There Shall Be Beer and Strippers…If Tony Has Anything to Say About It

"I don't see why I can't be there," Natasha says as Tony stands on the other side of his work bench in the lab, while Bruce stands to the side of them tinkering with one of Natasha's suit cuffs, tittering at their banter no matter how banal it may be. They mirror each other's posture, hands planted at the edge of the work bench, the chests slightly over hanging the surface as they stare each other down.

Tony tuts in response to her claim. "It's a _bachelor_ party, he's," he juts his thumb at Bruce, "the bachelor."

"So?" Natasha fires back.

"You're the bride!" Tony exclaims, his arms rising from the table to spread wide as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Bruce's chest and hands shake with his laughter. They've been going back and forth like this for nearly an hour. He puts the Widow Bite on the table, resting his hands either side of it while he calms himself.

"You guys are just going to be playing poker and drinking beer," Natasha says in a level voice and Bruce lifts a brow at her. She winks. He's staying out of this. "What do you think I'll be doing with Barton, Pepper, Hill and Maximoff?"

"Barton's invited, he's got a 'Y' chromosome," Tony concedes. "Besides, we're having strippers!" he then declares as if it's a triumphant point.

"No," comes the reply from Bruce and Steve as the super-soldier walks into the lab. He and Natasha were supposed to go over a new training roster for the latest draft of Avengers.

"Who's organising this shindig?" Tony replies to both men while ignoring Natasha's silence on the matter. "We," he waves a hand between himself and Steve as he steps up to the corner of the work bench between him and Bruce, his hands settling on their shoulders, "need to make sure our buddy is doing the right thing; I mean it's basically a suicide mission marrying someone code named 'Black Widow.'"

"I'm doing the right thing Tony," Bruce cuts in, a slight warning in his voice.

"What about a pre-nup?" Tony asks undeterred.

"Oh, we have a pre-nup," Natasha replies, pinning her stare on Tony. "Bruce gets full custody of you."

"What about the rest of us?" Steve asks, snickering at Tony's indignant "Hey."

"Every other weekend," Natasha's reply roles off her tongue smoothly as she sashays around the table and kisses her fiancé on the cheek. "We really need to put that in writing," she runs a hand up his arm. Bruce turns his head to kiss her on the lips, murmuring, "Not a chance."

"This is what it feels like to be unloved and unwanted," Tony says to them.

A throaty chuckle escapes her and she gives him a mischievous look as she coaxes him back to kiss her a second time. And a third. Small pecks. Rare when they're in public, usually reserved for private moments, but they know it riles Tony, so they exaggerate their affection for one another.

Till he starts making gagging sounds. "Unhand my Science Bro Romanoff, I've made plans for him." The couple break apart, sharing a soft, indulgent smile, silently promising each other their moment will be continued in private later. "Also, you can't be there as it's the only chance we have to ask _details_."

"Details?"

"Details," Tony stage whispers with a waggle of his eyebrows.

"No," Bruce cuts him off.

"Why not? I give you glowing reviews," Natasha cuts in their exchange, completely nonchalant.

Bruce and Steve both turn to her in surprise. If he had access to a mirror, Bruce would be able to tell who was turning the deeper shade of pink.

"To who?" Bruce internally winces at the high pitch which escapes.

"To Stark; who else would ask?"

"She does, and remarkably enthusiastic reviews at that," Tony concurs.

Steve flashes him a sympathetic shrug, which he appreciates, except it's pointless. Though his nearest and dearest regularly go head to head verbally, it's ten times worse when they team up and aim their jokes at him.

He wouldn't have it any other way. It's a sign of affection for both of them.

"You don't have to put up with those kinds of questions from Barton," Natasha says shaking her head.

"Barton's not convinced we're together," comes Bruce's reply. He picks up the cuff to tinker with the connections he had exposed to cover his own little niggle at that little point. He always feels the need to justify his feelings for Natasha to the archer, yet always chicken's out. "You could just ignore him."

"Now I'm offended," Tony quips.

"I could," she replies, ignoring the other man and sliding her arm around Bruce's waist, pressing against him. "But he's the only person weird enough to listen to me brag about what we did in the shower this morning," she emphasises her point with a downright coy expression and a chaste kiss on his cheek, where he is certain the pink flush is now deep red.

"I prefer to be described as 'eccentric'," Tony chimes in.

"I still want to come to the bachelor party," Natasha replies.

"There shall be poker and beer and strippers!" Tony counters with a flourish of his hand.

"No," Bruce groans.

"Pepper and I can organise your strippers if you like," Natasha offers.

That makes Tony pause, his face blanching as he contemplates her words. "Will you organise strippers if I ever pop the question to Pepper?" He asks Bruce out of the corner of his mouth.

"I know what's good for me Tony." Natasha rewards him with another kiss.

"How about strip poker?" The billionaire asks, a twinkle of hope in his eye.

"No," Steve and Bruce chorus again much to Stark's and, apparently Natasha's, dismay, if her face is anything to go by.

"Now that's something I would like to see," she grumbles before shaking the thought away. "As much fun as this has been boys, I have work to do," Natasha says, falling into step with Steve as they walk toward the door. "Stark we will continue this discussion later."

"You got it Red," Tony agrees. He starts to pull up holographic diagrams for their latest joint project, pausing as an idea hits him. "By the way, who gets custody of the Big Guy?" Tony asks her retreating form.

Natasha spins seamlessly keeping her stride as she walks backwards to the door with a look Bruce can only deem as seductive plastered on her face. "He's all mine," Natasha rasps with an air of ownership Bruce willingly concedes.


	3. Lila Barton - Spy in training

**Author Note – Just a quick note (I know it's been a while, sorry, writers' block combined with a hectic real life are the only reasons I have to offer) – these snippets aren't in chronological order, I've written them as the ideas originally came to me rather than with a clear timeline – sorry for any confusion. One day I may go back and give them some sort of order.**

 **As always, special thanks to my beta Black' Victor Cachat.**

Chapter Three – Lila Barton, spy in training

Lila Barton hums happily to herself as she pulls the brush through her aunts' hair. In her aunt's room - Lila will never consider it a guest room - surrounded by the pictures they've all made for Auntie Nat over the years, she stands on a small wooden stool behind Auntie Nat, who is sitting patiently on a chair in front of the vanity dressing table with Nathaniel squirming in her lap.

Lila figures it isn't all Nathaniel's fault, he's not too fond of wearing the suit Mom had to wrestle him into, and now Auntie Nat keeps tickling him whenever he tugs at the collar of his shirt as he tries to loosen the tie he is determined to lose before the wedding. None of them were allowed to make a mess of the smart clothes they were wearing, Auntie Nat included – Mom's orders – which is why they were sent to Auntie Nat's room. That, and because Mister Stark insists Auntie Nat isn't allowed to see Uncle Bruce before they're married.

Not that Lila minds, she loves the soft pink dress she's wearing for the wedding, but she's not convinced by Mister Starks' reasoning of bad luck if they see each other, because they've been living together for a few years. Auntie Nat wasn't impressed when he announced it this morning. Lila doesn't know what else was said 'cos Auntie Nat covered her ears while she argued with Mister Stark about it. But Lila figures she lost the argument, since they were all sent to her room soon after Auntie Nat and Uncle Bruce shared a quick kiss, and then auntie glared at Mister Stark as they proceeded up the stairs.

It was a win-win situation for Lila: she gets to wear a pretty dress and spend time with her auntie, (even if Nathaniel had to tag along), as it is something they haven't been able to do while they've been getting the house ready for the wedding. Lila's own hair is braided and tied with ribbons which match her dress. It's pretty but isn't like the dress her aunt wears. Long and white, strapless, a little plain for Lila, yet Auntie Nat looks as beautiful as always. Her vibrant hair rests on her shoulders in soft loose curls, which she graciously agreed to let Lila brush for several long minutes.

Every so often, Auntie Nat looks over at the open window to the field at the side of the house where everyone is waiting for the wedding to start. Lila had been over the moon when Dad and Mom offered to have the wedding at the house as it was one of the few places where they could bring all of the Avengers together without being bothered by the outside world, especially the press. Apparently, everyone arrived early so they wouldn't miss it.

"As nice as it was for your parents to let us have the wedding here, I think your mom and dad forgot the kind of mess the Avengers can make when they're all in the same place," Natasha muses when she hears a crash of chairs and boisterous yelling, making it apparent Thor is demonstrating a move from a recent adventure to Steve.

Lila giggles at her aunt. It _is_ fun having the Avengers here, they've been much more entertaining than last time. Unfortunately, they do kind of take over everything, and they're more competitive than she and Cooper are when they fight over the TV remote.

"I want to go out and play," five-year-old Nathaniel grumbles as he cranes his head to look out the window.

"Me too, buddy," Natasha answers and tickles him again. Nathaniel squeals and squirms on her lap. "But we're stuck in here till it's time for me to say 'I do'."

"What does that mean?" Nathaniel asks, only for Auntie Nat to laugh and blow a raspberry on his cheek.

Lila laughs again and resumes brushing her aunt's hair. She loves having her aunt home, even if it's just for a little while. Now that she and Doctor Banner live far away, Lila doesn't get to see her as much. She still argues about not being allowed to video call Auntie Nat to check in on her like Dad does, but he's too worried about someone hacking the stream. Holidays and birthdays don't really count; they're mandatory attendance.

It also means they don't have time to do what they used to. When she was little, Auntie Nat would sit for hours as Lila brushed her hair; or anything else Lila wanted to do – colouring or telling the wildest bedtime stories, which Lila could never figure out if they were true or not. Lila doesn't like the thought of them leaving in a few days after the wedding. Mom says Auntie Nat and Doctor Banner are going on a vacation called a honeymoon, chuckling at Dad's scowl whenever it's mentioned.

Her thoughts are interrupted by clicking of the lock as the door is pushed open. The three occupants turn to see Uncle Bruce poke his head around the door just the hinge creaks, alerting the rest of the house to his whereabouts.

"Really need to find some lubricant for this door," Uncle Bruce mutters just as someone from downstairs calls his name before he can step over the threshold. Bruce sighs dramatically. Lila watches Auntie Nat smile fondly as Bruce shrugs at them and backs out of the room looking heartbroken, "This is what happens when I try to be spontaneous and romantic; scuppered by a creaky hinge."

"It's the thought that counts," Natasha consoles him as he disappears from view.

Lila giggles till she spots her aunt looking at the reclosed door. "What's wrong Auntie Nat?"

"It would've been nice to talk to Uncle Bruce," Natasha replies while glancing at the door. "Kind of miss the dork even when he's just downstairs."

Lila ignores her aunt's use of the word 'dork', it's used affectionately rather than to be mean, and looks out the window to where Uncle Bruce has quickly joined her dad and Mister Stark outside. She hears Mister Stark make a whipping sound and gesture and she assumes he's trying to make fun of Uncle Bruce, but she just doesn't get the joke except her dad laughs too.

"You really love him, don't you Auntie Nat?"

"I do Lila-bug," Natasha confirms.

She sees her aunt look wistfully at the window. She may be a kid, and doesn't completely understand how adult relationships work, but Uncle Bruce makes Auntie Nat happy and that's all that matters to Lila. And if Auntie Nat and Uncle Bruce want to talk, Lila will make it happen.

"I have an idea," Lila says, hopping down from the stool and skipping to the door. "Stay here Auntie Nat. Come on Nathaniel," she calls over her shoulder as she peeks through the crack of the door to see if the coast is clear.

"Finally!" Her little brother grumbles, as he slides from their aunt's lap to follow her.

She doesn't answer him as she slips out of the door, and creeps along the hall to the stairs. Her eyes scan the front door and the downstairs hallway for any sign of movement; no footsteps, no shadows cast by lingering guests.

Nathaniel, eager to play now that he's out of Auntie Nats' room, tries to overtake her at the top of the stairs, until Lila blocks him with her arm. Her brother opens his mouth to protest, yet she shakes her and places a finger to her lips. He starts again, only for her to shush him quietly, and point down to the hall where their mom walks past the living room door to pick up some of the flowers for the wedding. Once she retreats again, Lila signals with her hand for Nathaniel to follow her.

"Why can't I just go and play? This is boring," Nathaniel whispers.

"Because I need your help, and I'll get you a cookie from the jar Mom keeps on top of the fridge if you do." That makes him fall in behind her. Her little brother still hasn't managed to reach the jar. No matter how hard he tries, he's just not tall enough even when he stands on a chair.

Her eyes focus on the stairs as she takes a deep breath, she memorised where to step to avoid the creaks years ago. They silently make their way down the stairs, Nathaniel stays close behind her but she can tell from his huffing he's getting impatient with her cautiousness.

"I need you to distract Mister Stark," Lila explains, as they pause on the last step and she checks to make sure no one who is likely to send them back to Auntie Nat has spotted them.

Nathaniel cocks his head for a second before looking around the hand rail, through the kitchen, at their prey: their Dad and Uncle Bruce standing just outside the back door talking. A moment later he moves past her and saunters toward them, assuring her conspiratorially, "I've got this."

Following after her younger brother, Lila is stopped by their Mom just inside the kitchen door. Lila gives her the cutest look she can manage, except it doesn't work as her Mom laughs at her before presenting her with a cell phone. Lila frowns at it; the device makes her plan simpler, even though she was looking forward to trying to pick Mister Stark's pocket – Auntie Nat showed her once but she's never done it to anyone except her family members, and they always knew.

"Make a seamless pass to Uncle Bruce, and you can have an extra piece of cake later," her Mom winks at Lila when she palms the phone. It's a good incentive, the huge chocolate cake with mini Hulk and Black Widow figures on top looks scrumptious on the counter, but it's not why Lila is doing this.

Taking a pause to refigure her approach, she sees Nathaniel has the attention of all three men as he begs their Dad to hoist him onto his shoulders, only to ask the other two men when Dad shakes his head explaining about keeping the suits tidy for the ceremony, which would've been convincing if he didn't look as uncomfortable as Nathaniel does in the buttoned-up shirt and jacket. Nathaniel turns his attention on Mister Stark then, peppering him with questions about the clear interface he uses instead of a phone. The man seems to fall for it and pulls it out to show it to her little brother. Lila uses the chance to sneak behind the man, skipping to Uncle Bruce's side.

She can sense her Dad's eyes on her, yet she ignores him and hums the same tune she was humming when she was brushing Auntie Nat's hair. Uncle Bruce notices her too – and the phone - he's more observant than people give him credit for.

She turns on a skip, Bruce's hand touches her shoulder and she lifts her hand to pass him the phone covering the motion while her back is to Mister Stark. Lila smiles as he winks surreptitiously, and uses Nathaniel as a distraction to sneak around the corner of the house to phone Auntie Nat, who he speaks to without preamble when she answers, "It's good to have the gang back together, but I'll be grateful if we get through this without any structural damage."

As curious as Lila is about their conversation, it's private. Unfortunately, Mister Stark hears the conversation too. "Hey, what did I say about phones? This is gonna end up like the bachelor party," he says as he tries to follow but is blocked by Lila and Nathaniel.

"Give it up Stark," Dad tells the older man. "You won't get past; Nat trained 'em."

Their Dad walks away but the kids stand between Mister Stark and Uncle Bruce as he peers down at them dubiously. His gaze switches between them before focusing on Lila, "You really are Reds' mini-me, aren't you?"

"Don't ever forget it," Lila warns him with a raised eyebrow, just like Auntie Nat taught her.


	4. Ménage à trois

**Author Note – I have confession, I had quite a few ideas for this little collection and some of them were started but when I went back to them after finishing** _ **Rooftop Conversations**_ **I found it difficult to get back into the right frame of mind to complete them. Before I take an undecided sabbatical from** _ **Spies and Scientists**_ **, I wanted to add this scene. Please enjoy.**

 **Also note, the rating has been changed to M for sexual content so if you're too young or those scenes upset you, skip the first part or don't read beyond here.**

Chapter four – Ménage à trois

Moonlight fills their room as they lie together in bed after making love. Spring is on the cusp of turning into summer, and there is a light sheet covering their sweat-slick bodies as Bruce spoons close to Natasha. Using one of his arms as a pillow, she lies quietly with her eyes closed, small puffs of breath dance on his arm. Bruce would never describe her as a cuddler, although she certainly makes herself at home in his arms. Not that he's arguing. He's seen her agitated, restless, with a rage which can rival the Hulks', lying awake several nights when nothing except nightmares waits for her if she closes her eyes. He's sat with her through those nights just like she does when he has trouble finding peace. Then there are other nights, like tonight, when she's soft and pliant. He doesn't have a preference for either kind of night; he feels privileged that she allows him see these sides of her, content with the knowledge that she feels safe enough with him to show him.

Over the years, fear has instilled very specific boundaries in them when it comes to people being around them. Yet that's what initiated their relationship in the first place; they knew how to navigate each other because understood the lines they put between themselves and everyone else. It also meant they knew how to corrode them to establish a connection. Actual physical contact is rare unless they're alone; in private they convey their feelings through touch, a simple grasp of fingers, a graze of a hand on the back as they pass; both her presence and caress are soothing and electric at the same time. In public they manage to refrain from touching by gravitate each other's peripheral space, their personal bubble yet skating closer than anyone else.

He moved in with her nearly three years ago after he returned to Earth after his other half's jaunt into the cosmos. After a tense reunion, and a drawn-out-and-dragged-out battle to destroy Thanos, where they made friends and lost so many others, they got their chance to walk away rather than run.

Still reeling from the loss of friends and family, and nowhere else to go, Natasha invited him to accompany her to DC to check if one of her bolt holes was still standing. Tony offered them a place to stay, but after six years of fighting, he was too drained, and needed prolonged time alone with Pepper. Natasha seemed to agree, her threshold for the job finally reached. Besides, they needed some time together. They barely had time to say hello let alone resolve what happened after Sokovia.

Miraculously, her apartment was structurally sound when they arrived. Albeit, glass littered the floor from where the windows had been smashed during rioting stemming the initial panic when half the planet was wiped out. She hadn't been a victim of looting. Aside from being situated on the top floor, she didn't keep much at the apartment except the basic essentials and a table in open plan kitchen and living room, with a bed and built in wardrobe in the bedroom. What had surprised him was she moved her bed out of the way and found his personal research which she said she'd been hiding from Ross in her hefty floor safe. One of the several spare go bags he hid around the Tower for if he had to run at a moment's notice was in her wardrobe. Touched by her thoughtfulness, something he didn't deserve or expect after running away from her, he offered to help fix up the apartment, which she seemed intent on keeping.

They holed themselves up, the rest of the planet were licking their wounds, and rebuilding what was left of their lives, and they were no different. Natasha seemed comfortable enough as they spent the better part of a week clearing up her apartment. Somehow the building supervisor managed, by some miracle -bribe, more likely- to secure a glazier to replace the windows at some point near the end of that first week. All the atmospheric disturbance from the alien spaceships caused sporadic heavy rainfall, although the sturdy see-through tarp they used to cover the large windows managed to protect them from the elements.

What had always marvelled him was how they could comfortably work together without words, instinctively knowing what the other needed. Of course, she aimed the odd zinger at him to keep him on his toes; he would worry about her if she didn't.

At the time, Bruce presumed he would spend a few nights on her sofa before moving on. He had no idea where he would go, not that he truly wanted to leave her. His feelings for her hadn't changed during his absence, since it had only been _hours_ really for him in between. On the other hand, those first few days only served to painfully remind him of the fact that too much time had passed for her to still be interested in pursuing their ill-timed feelings. Or so he thought.

Aware that he was probably following her around like a lost puppy, they went on like that for nearly ten days before Natasha finally confronted him. Not so much confronted; the actual conversation consisted of a simple sentence from Natasha, _"I'm sorry I pushed you."_

It took Bruce a long minute to figure out that was his cue to kiss her and he'd missed it. As it turned out, it didn't matter because she kissed him.

A week turned into two, and he found himself helping at a pop-up clinic who were treating minor ailments to relieve the strain put upon local hospitals with more severe injuries from the recent invasion, while Natasha checked in regularly with SHIELD agents who were clearing the area of alien technology. It was an odd routine they fell into easily, spending nights re-establishing the close bond they formed before he found himself stranded on Sakaar. It was nice coming home to someone.

Part of him expected her to follow Barton back to the farm and send him back to Tony, but that wasn't in her immediate plans. She appeared intent to stick to his side as they heard from the rest of the Avengers intermittently, checking in to report their status and figure out whether or not they needed to touch base in person rather than by cell or vid link.

It took him almost another month to build up the nerve to initiate a kiss.

Which brings him back to his present dilemma.

Today has been a perfect day off for both of them. Leisurely relaxing in bed as they exchanged nonsense chatter about their week in between stolen kisses and laughter. After rising, they ate breakfast out and took a walk along the mall before making their back to the apartment to watch some old movies while curled up on the sofa he bought soon after moving in. Afternoon turned into evening when a day full of feather-light touches and affectionate caresses turned into something more passionate, and they tumbled into bed early.

Which is how his current predicament has developed. It's all Thor's fault really. That's what he tells himself anyway. The angry beady eyes of the hand-carved Hulk figurine he gave Natasha have been watching Bruce all night long, and he can't take the scrutiny anymore and needs to do something about it. Smash is the first thing which comes to mind and he thinks it's a tad destructive and rebellious but fitting idea considering Hulk's penchant for smashing especially when he feels a retaliatory growl in the back of his head if he follows through on the thought. Only it's on the other side of Natasha who's fiercely protective of the doll.

The woman in his arms might honestly be trying to rest, she gets so little he's tempted to leave her undisturbed. He knows her too well, however, to be fooled by her closed eyes. She's awake. Her breathing isn't shallow enough. Besides, he hopes she will enjoy the distraction he has planned to keep her occupied while he tries to reach his goal.

Feeling brave and playful he nuzzles her bare shoulder, peppering her skin with tiny kisses which grow bolder as his mouth nears the crook of her neck. He inhales the faint scent of her perfume she applied hours ago as the hand on her hip pulls her into his chest, moulding her body to him as he feels the gentle stirrings of arousal. Not that that's anything out the ordinary, the affect she has on him is profound and most of his self-control is lost to him when she's near. To feel her skin pressed against his is almost drugging.

The little whimper and the roll of her hips is almost enough for him to give up on his covert quest, except he is very aware that she instinctively knows his plan and is using the movements to deter him from his goal. His resistance is not futile.

Still, this could be an interesting battle of wills which they both will reap the benefits from. Except there is something he needs to take care of first.

With his mouth glued to the pulse point on her neck, his arm under her neck creeps toward her bedside table. A raspy moan escapes her mouth, her lifting up to cup the back of his head to keep him there. He just has to hold out a little longer before both their needs can be satiated.

One eye on Natasha, one eye on his fingers as they walk over the bedside table top, reaching up as they clasp their prize. The woman in his grip gasps as she undulates against him, nearly bucking him away from her and the tiny figure on her bedside table. He smiles against her skin and tightens his grip on her hip, holding her still.

She manages to twist her neck to face him, her mouth dropping open playfully at his retaliation. He loves blindsiding her, it's so rare for him to do anything which truly surprises her. Her mouth reaches for his, emitting a laugh, as he remains undeterred from his multi-tasking. Her body follows his movement in a stretch only she can manage gracefully as the light sheet covering them both slips down, exposing their bare bodies. Rearing back slightly to angle his head correctly so he can swoop down to capture her lips in a deep kiss once more. Their mouths move together as her free hand grasps the back of his head, holding him in place their kiss borders on frantic. One of them moans, and Bruce can't be certain who produces the sound.

Then a chuckle bubbles from him as he feels her hand inch along his forearm and he moves away from her mouth to look into her eyes shining back at him. Her fingers keep moving as she beams, pulling her lower lip between her teeth. She leans up, her nose nuzzling his as she impossibly reaches his hand before trying to pry the figure from his hand only for him to turn it at the last second and push out of both of their range. Then they both lose their composure completely, laughing freely before she relaxes and lies flat on the mattress.

He's far too interested in the shape of her lips as she smiles without a care. He swoops in to capture her lips quickly, cutting of her laughter. She chases his mouth to return his kiss, her mouth opening so he can deepen it. His arms fold around her, relishing the feel of her and how free she makes him feel. His heart is hammering inside his chest and he's certain she can feel it. Unlike during the early months of their physical relationship, he doesn't need to pull away from her. Instead she takes the lead, slows and draws out the kiss so he can compose himself. Before long, she pushes him onto his back so she can straddle him, sinking onto his arousal with a groan and setting a pace that is tried and tested for them.

After making love for the second time that night, Natasha relaxes in his embrace once more as they both eye the figure facing away from them.

"Why did you turn him around?" Natasha comments lightly, gesturing at the mini-Hulk.

"There are somethings which he shouldn't see, he's far too impressionable."

She rolls her chin to look him in the eyes, one perfectly shaped eye brow cocked teasingly. "Jealous?"

"More than you realise," Bruce breathes out. The Other Guy has a connection with her he doesn't pretend to understand, and he knows she misses him more than she'll admit to for his sake. It's been a long time since there's been a need to unleash him.

"I would tell you there's no need, though we both know it won't stop you," Natasha tells him kindly.

"You're not the least bit concerned there's three of us involved in this relationship, are you?" Her lips brush his chest just above his heart as beats strongly.

"Not at all," she hums. "You two argue with each other more than either of you do with me."

"That's because we're scared of you," he smirks, and looks down in time to see her eyes light up as she kisses his chest again in approval. His hand skims her bare back, finally resting at the small of her back as the enjoy the quiet intimacy.

"They got the eyes wrong," Natasha says to him about the toy almost absently.

"Not angry enough?"

"Not warm enough," she answers thoughtfully.

There are times when he wonders how he got this lucky, this moment being no different. The woman in his arms continuingly astounding him, the depth of her feelings for him and his alter ego alone boggles his mind. Truth is they're both terrified of losing her. Again.

When the dust settled after the war, he struggled to quell his fear of changing. The prolonged transformations only fuelled his reluctance to give in to his anger. The Hulk seemed even more reluctant to relinquish to him in any way than before, and Bruce worried how much control he really has over the Other Guy anymore. Before the Lullaby, before the Avengers, the Hulk would run out of energy and Bruce would wake up in whatever place he fell. Suddenly he was reliant on Natasha's intervention to bring him back and the idea didn't sit well with Bruce. He doesn't like being dependent on her, but if a way to change back was ever going to become more than a pipe dream, it would have to be on the Hulk's terms, and Natasha was the only one who could work with him on it. Not that it ever came to fruition, there was little need for the Hulk after the war.

"I can hear you thinking," Natasha says interrupting his thoughts.

"Nothing bad," he sighs.

"Nothing good either," Natasha surmises.

Instead of pushing up and away from him, she stays right where she is, unafraid of what he might say. They've said things in this room to each other they've never said to anyone else. Holding each other in the dark as darker whispers tumble from them. Facades forgotten, neither get angry at their past or offer anything other than comfort, though the punch bag in the living room usually gets a thorough work out from one or both of them the following morning.

"You miss him," Bruce sighs reaching out to turn the angry little figure around to face them.

"I do," Natasha says carefully. She then sits up, tucking the blanket around her to cover her nudity, and leans over Bruce to draw the figure into her lap. He's mesmerised by her soft expression as her finger brushes the small face which is poised in a snarl; she never fails to amaze him with the way she treats the Hulk with a gentleness which is foreign to the three of them. "It's not all the time, and not for the reasons you think I do."

"It's not?" He teases and is rewarded by her hitting him with tiny Hulk on the shoulder. "Ow," he exaggerates as he rubs the inflicted area.

"You're such a dork," she smiles as she shakes her head at his antics. "Do you need me to kiss it better?"

"Normally I'd say yes, except I'd rather hear what you were about to say," he replies sweetly. He lifts up to sit next to her.

"He recognises something in me which others don't, it's why he first trusted me," she explains softly. "The Red Room made me focus my rage into my missions, but there were times when I just wanted to scream. Only with their programming, I didn't have the luxury of roaring. There are things I told him, and no one else, because I know he won't look at me like I'm a monster."

"You tell him things you don't tell me," Bruce blinks in surprise. In his head comes an image of her, a memory he's never experienced, sitting in the sun as her mouth forms words he can't hear yet can see the cost weighing on her. Internally, he thanks the Hulk for showing him this snippet from their private interaction and punctuating her point. He can be there for her too.

"I used to, before I realised you are a good listener, and just as understanding," Natasha shrugs with a crooked smile. "Who'd have the balls to interrogate either one of you?"

"You," Bruce gently provides. He's a little bothered by the fact that she opened up to the Hulk before him. Looking at her, forlorn and sad, he just wants to take it all away. _"Mine,"_ comes a growl from the back of his mind and he counters, _"Ours"._ The Hulk quietly huffs his ascent and resumes his silence. Natasha is just as much a part of the Hulks' life as she is his.

"I'm just saying, it'd be nice to see him sometimes," Natasha tacks on, her thumb caressing the small face. "I understand why you don't want to transform after being him for so long, but he's a part of you and you don't have to hide him from me."

…

A week after their talk Bruce sits in his lab at the Avengers facility in Upstate New York. Staring into space, he repeatedly turns the small box in his hand.

He's very aware that he's dragging his feet. People having been dropping hints for years. Tony drunkenly called him on it soon after he and Natasha moved in together, lovingly berating him for putting off the inevitable. No matter of their declarations, it was too soon. Whatever else anyone said to push them to make it official, their commitment to one another was solid; Bruce didn't need a ring or a piece of paper to tell him how he felt about Natasha or vice versa.

He's had a ring for months, and the box has been gathering dust in his desk's bottom drawer. Beautiful and understated yet elegant. A light gold band with an emerald coloured stone sitting atop of it. He didn't buy it to be an engagement ring, not at the time anyway. He brought it home and realised how it would look if he presented it to her, and the sudden doubt that thought provoked has held him back ever since.

"You know it's a bad day at the office when I can sneak up on you," Tony announces as he suddenly walks into Bruce's vision. "Why so glum, chum?"

"Um," Bruce replies dumbly. His hand closes over the box and drops it to his side. He can't hide it; the act alone would bring more unwanted attention. "I was just thinking."

"About?" Of course Tony won't let it go. That's why he's his best friend, he is not afraid of pushing Bruce for the answers others wouldn't. Bruce holds out the box. Tony takes it and pops the lid, unsurprised by the contents. "Now I know why you look like a condemned man." He looks at the ring again. "About time."

"Natasha and I haven't talked about it," Bruce tells him as he takes the box back, snapping the lid shut.

"Romanoff and I have never been each other's biggest fans," Tony starts. _Understatement of the year,_ Bruce thinks. "But I'm pretty sure she likes you. She's gonna say yes."

"Wish I had your confidence," Bruce sighs. "Natasha said something about the Hulk the other night and… I don't know… It got me thinking."

"You think you need the Big Guy's approval," Tony guesses.

"No," Bruce shakes his head as a growl rumbles in the back of his head. "No, he uh, he's completely on board with this. I just think she'd like him to be more present."

"I'm not going to pretend that thought hasn't crossed my mind but keep Red's kinks to yourself."

"You're an ass," Bruce chuckles despite himself.

"Look, they're close. He gets to experience a side of her you don't as you'll never be able to; the side when she's hopped up on adrenaline after a fight, tapering down on hers while she curbs his. You get flashes of his time in charge, yet who knows what goes the other way; what he experiences through your eyes when you're with her."

It's not like this is the first time they've had the discussion, but nothing ever comes of it because no one's ever gotten a definitive answer from the Hulk. Not even the guy sharing space with him. "I don't think now is the time to discuss that."

"Isn't it? You're thinking about bringing holy matrimony into your alternative threesome."

"There's a certain awareness when he wakes up, almost like he knows the situation he's coming into."

"That's not what I was talking about. Have you ever asked if he's her jolly green concubine?"

"I don't think that's an issue," he replies with a little chuckle in spite of the image which pops into his head unbidden.

"You could ask on my behalf," Tony suggests. At Bruce's sour look he shrugs, "Enquiring minds want to know."

Bruce rolls his eyes. "I'm not sure if this is necessary. I know how Natasha feels, she knows how I feel about her. This isn't make or break for us."

While there is a certain fascination, the Hulk is so physically imposing it invites natural curiosity, Bruce knows sexual attraction is not something Natasha feels toward his greener half. She holds an affection for him and is one of the few people allowed to touch him without receiving a defensive response. Even now, she is tentative and shrewd when she does.

He is jealous of their relationship, an insecurity manifests born from a lack of awareness that one or both of them will do something to make her realise they're not worth the effort. He sometimes jokes about this to her, only for her to look at him with that piercing green gaze of hers to judge whether he's serious or not. She never rejects or dismisses his fear, instead makes him realise their unconventional relationship provides them with a chance of acceptance of her other. His respect of the Hulk has grown through her eyes, and experiences with him. Bruce can't deny the change in the Hulk, and when he expects a rebellious little growl to taunt him, there is none. Natasha's influence on them is profound.

"Neither of you are conventional by any definition, but no one's going to judge you if you stay as you are. For better or worse, you two, sorry technically three, are already bound to one another. You always have been… and you can't run away from what you are." Tony pauses. "Obviously, I'm overlooking your jaunt beyond the stars. Because that was a mistake and you paid your dues."

Bruce huffs lightly.

Undeterred, Tony continues, "Why is this important to you? You already have a ring, something made you buy it. If it was just a present you would have given it to her by now."

"This was simpler with Betty; I just took her to dinner and asked."

With Betty, engagement and marriage were expected, the concept was the natural progression of a relationship they were both raised with no matter how dire their upbringings were. When he, himself, thought there was no chance of him ever finding love or anyone to accept him. Natasha does. She readily accepts and delights in his eccentricities no matter how dorky or clumsy he is. Natasha, who holds on to insecurities about her ability to feel and express love, has shown him more than he thought possible after his accident, possibly more than he experienced before. She finally managed to break through his defences with the first Lullaby, and since then they've systematically removed all boundaries between them. With her past of revolving personas, she is uniquely equipped to understand the difference between him and the Hulk.

She gave them a whole other scope for life which he barely comprehended till they separated let alone embrace it. Or the deeper feelings which developed.

Beautiful, smart, unassuming. She deserves something special.

"I know you think this has to have bells and whistles, but it doesn't. It's just five simple words Buddy. Natasha, will you marry me."

He grabs the bag he brings to work, retrieving the tiny Hulk figure he'd smuggled in. He shows it to Tony. "I have an idea, except I need your help."

The billionaire holds his hands up in surrender. "You know she's going to find a way to kill you if anything happens to tiny Hulk. Buddy, I love you, but I'm not taking _that_ particular bullet for you."

"I'm not asking you to propose for me, just the staging," Bruce assures him. "You know if she says yes, you get to be the Best Man."

"I'm already the Best Man," Tony puffs out his chest defensively. "But with Barton as the Man of Honour, I guess we can pull together one hell of a wedding reception."

"On second thoughts, maybe we should elope."

"I liked you better when you were tiptoeing."

….

Natasha is pushing through the locker room doors of the Compound's gym after showering and changing from her work out when her phone beeps. Steve's already gone to meet Hill to organise an upcoming training session with SHIELD recruits who are about to graduate to field assignments. Pulling the device from her pocket, she swipes her thumb over the screen to activate it, only to be presented with an image of her Hulk figurine looking through the observation window above the gym she'd just been sparring in with Steve. While she was sparring with Steve. Captioned with the words, _'Find me.'_

Natasha frowns and checks the sender to find Bruce's name. Her significant other –both boyfriend and lover seemed like fall short when describing for their relationship— could easily blend into the background when he wants to, even on a base like this, yet he's never been able to sneak past her before, let alone observe her while she's working out.

Eyeing the screen again, she smirks, as he's obviously feeling mischievous and daring – he knows what that figurine means to her – and he certainly knows how to get her attention. Curious, she taps the call button at the top of her screen and lifts the device to her ear only for it to go to voicemail. She hangs up without leaving a message. Denied a chance to tease him, she looks at the image again, trying to figure out what he has in mind.

Seconds later, she turns on her heel and starts in the direction of his lab. She only takes ten steps when her phone beeps once more with a message from Bruce.

' _Please. Follow the Hulk.'_

Her smirk softens as reads it, imagining his voice asking her. She's not a fan of surprises, except she's learnt to enjoys his, often romantic, moments. The simplest are her favourite; bringing her coffee into the bedroom while she's in the shower, absently massaging her feet after a long day while they're huddled on the sofa, making her dinner, his hand finding hers after she's woken by a nightmare. It comes so naturally to him, she doubts he's conscious of it.

Fully aware whatever scavenger hunt he has planned is unlikely to end with public humiliation, he would never dare expose her to that, she turns around to walk in the direction of the observation deck. She'll play his game, happy that he's not afraid to play with her like most people.

There was a time when she tried to ignore what Bruce's presence did to her. What both sides of him did to her. Especially when they were midst of a fight. They make mindful of her reactions in all the ways she's never experienced, impulses she was trained to ignore unless they were paramount to her assignments. Regardless, both of them managed to capture her heart. It wasn't part of a grand seduction, Bruce didn't set out to pursue her, nor the other way around, it just crept up on both of them after New York and DC when they re-established their relationship.

Reaching the observation deck, Natasha looks around for Bruce, but there's no sign. Her phone beeps once more and she shakes her head as she swipes away the lock screen to find another image of her treasured figurine, only this time sitting on the kitchen island in the living quarters next to a cup of tea.

Natasha sighs and starts off in the direction of the kitchen, wondering exactly what her dork was up to.

Getting to know Bruce was a new experience for her. All of her associates were made on the job; Barton is a true friend, Steve too. Fury a mentor. Stark is a side product of it, and they'll always be an underlying tension following her undercover mission which exposed SHIELD to him, and the uncomplimentary profile she had made of him even though he concurred it was accurate. Bruce… Bruce is completely different, refreshing. He's never been afraid of her or what she's capable of. For someone who's been through the ringer when it comes to covert operatives, he isn't as closed off as he once made out.

Bruce is cautious, yet somehow, he's managed keep hold of something fundamental to his personality, that innate warmth she sees shining at her in the Hulk's gaze when he's calm and focused on her. Once you move past that initial test he doles out, he opens up and lets you see it. No matter how guarded Bruce and the Big Guy are, they're also delicate, like a hard-outer shell protecting something fragile and tortured inside. His dorky sense of humour has evolved from the dark, self-depreciation he used to fall back on; his excitement at something, anything, makes her smile. She discovered he is nurturing and kind. He is a good listener who gives reasonable and sound advice.

Working with him on the Lullaby was an exhilarating experience. The Hulk is so powerful, primitive and instinctual. When he lets her near him, adrenaline kicks in and her body feels like it's vibrating, the waves bouncing off of him like a shock wave. She's fought alongside people before; Barton, Steve, she has a good rhythm with them. Usually, when they've got the enemy all around, it's advisable to give the Big Guy a wide birth especially when he's tearing apart buildings or tanks single-handed. But there was a time when she leading –being chased by– a HYDRA agent into the fray, and she needed to make her move. She caught the Hulk's eye as he was blocking a doorway, maybe it was a hole blown in the wall, preventing more enemy agents from joining the fight. He huffed lightly and dropped into a braced stance while she took a run up, sprung off his knee onto his shoulder and used it to boost both feet to spin off high above him, twisting mid-air to land on her feet behind the agent who came face to face with a menacing snarl while she took him down from the rear before meeting the Big Guy's eyes with a grateful smirk.

The Big Guy recognises a part of her no one else does, not even Bruce. Probably why she was able to let him see some of her more vulnerable moments after a fight, as she tries to calm herself before she tries doing the same with him. Probably why she finds it so easy to open up to Bruce after they became friends.

The humble, yet brilliant scientist who managed to endear her with his concern to protect civilians from collateral damage he creates more than any mission, made a place for himself in her heart.

Her dork, a claim she makes readily.

The depth of her feelings for Bruce was a shock at the time. The sudden realisation was like the sound of cocking a trigger for her—the clarity goes hand in hand with the bullet loading into the chamber. The moment she knows someone will get hurt, will die, if she pulls the trigger.

And she was on the receiving end of that bullet when he disappeared for two years. Or at least that's what it felt like in her heart.

His absence had been hard on her, and she struggled to accept his presence when he returned, unwilling to go through that pain once again. He accepted her decision with his unshakeable understanding. After the failed battle with Thanos, he looked so lost with nowhere to go, just like the rest of them. Their friends separated, each of them needing space to deal with the Annihilation before regrouping to avenge and bring back those who had been lost. She needed space too, but she knew if she left, she may never see him again, and with the way things were back then, she didn't want to leave anything unsaid no matter how difficult it was to say. So, she asked him to tag along to check an apartment of hers.

Opening the door to the kitchen she finds it deserted once again. No Bruce, no little Hulk, none of the current roster of Avengers. She sighs and passes the island only for her phone to beep once more. Another image of her Hulk pops up, only this time he's on the bedside table in the private quarters they use whenever they're on the base. Shouldering her bag, she turns toward the corridor which leads to the private rooms.

It took time to build up the nerve to talk to him about how she felt when he left, to apologise for her part in it. He didn't treat her differently than he did before he left, sweet and shy, rekindling the natural flow between them and she found it hard to close herself off from him. She tried to hold him at arms-length, it was harder to pretend there was nothing between them.

Returning to the present, and arriving at their room, Natasha lays her ear against the door to hear if Bruce is actually inside this time. She would ask FRIDAY, but she suspects he's got some help to track her. Hearing his tell-tale shuffling, Natasha turns the handle to find the room dark except for tea lights dotted around the surfaces. Her eyes adjust to the decreased light as she steps in and hears the soft strains of Bruce's favourite aria. She spies his shirt discarded on the end of the bed and then she realises his shadow in the corner of her eye is much larger than she accounted for, the dim light bouncing off his green skin like camouflage. Her head turns and her eyes land on the Hulk as he sits cross-legged on the floor by the wall waiting patiently for her to notice him.

"Hey Big Guy," she purrs gently. She steps through the door and pushes it closed with her back a soft smile playing on her lips. Her bag drops to the floor.

"Tasha," he rumbles and she closes the distance, her hand rising to his cheek. He leans into her touch just Bruce does, his eyes drooping a fraction and she can almost hear Bruce's sigh in his breathing.

"Missed you," she whispers.

His luminous greens raise to hers and her heart kicks up a notch as he returns the sentiment. "Hulk miss Tasha."

Part of her wants to brush her lips across his forehead which, in his seated position, is level with her chin but she stops herself; she won't blur those lines for them. "This is a nice surprise Big Guy, care to explain?"

"Banner explain later," Hulk tells her without his usual disdain he uses when he says Banner.

"So, he's the spokesman, huh?" She quips gently. He nods. "And we get to hang out for a while?" She asks hopefully only for him to shake his head.

"Tasha good for Hulk, good for Banner. Make happy, here," he places one oversized hand over his heart. He lets her free hand cover his. "Tasha protect Banner?"

She knows he means it as a statement but it comes out as a question. She guesses that's what he equates to loving someone. She nods. "You too Big Guy."

He ducks his head with a little shake. "Hulk not needed to fight, Hulk not scared."

"No one's saying you are Big Guy."

"Hulk not hiding, still here."

"Still here," she taps his hand to reiterate his words. He pauses, his large eyebrows furrowing as he struggles with what he's trying to say. If she hadn't missed him as much, she would perform a Lullaby to just ask Bruce but apparently this part of this set-up is on the Big Guy. "Show me," she commands softly wondering if it's the right thing to say because she doesn't know what he's going to do.

He's grateful for the direction as he shakes her off and she has to step back as he moves to stand. His hair brushes the ceiling and he ducks to keep from hitting his head as he fills the space. Instead of feeling like he's looming over her, she feels safely cocooned in his presence.

"Show Tasha," he mumbles.

He slides his eyes shut and takes a deep breath. His body begins to shrink smoothly. She watches as the green skin gives way to flush pink. He stays rooted where he is as the transformation lacks the usual pain and twitches which accompanies it. A few minutes later, Bruce stands before her, both of them in awe of what the Hulk just did. The trust and approval he's given them.

Natasha doesn't know who moves first or if they move at the same time but they meet halfway moments later. Her hand cradles his face, much like she did with the Hulk, as his hands find her waist to pull her close.

"Never thought he'd do that." Heart beat accelerating, her eyes snap back to Bruce and he blusters in that shy way of his despite his self-conscious smile. "Hi," he offers.

"Hi," she mimics with a smile. "How long...?"

"I don't think he's ever done that before," Bruce answers. "I wanted to do something special for you and I'm pretty sure he just topped it."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?" Natasha teases him with a watery smile. It's a momentous development and she thinks the Hulk is, in his own way, trying to help Bruce with whatever he has planned.

Slipping from her embrace, he moves to the other side of the room and the bedside table where the tiny Hulk stands and picks up the small box at its feet. Turning it uncertainly in his hands before opening it. His hesitation palpable though she realises it's more from the significance of the moment than unwillingness.

With a few steps he's in front of her and, his face solemn and full of self-awareness, presents it to her without saying a word. A ring nestled in its groove as the emerald gem gleaming upward. She takes the box, careful not to disturb the contents, looking at it with a neutral expression. "What's this for?"

He takes a deep breath and looks away till her hand touches his face to tilt it back to hers. His lips purse as he turns to kiss her fingers lightly.

"I've had the ring for months," he confesses. "We've never talked about getting married or even engaged."

"Do you want it to mean that?" Natasha asks gently, keeping her feelings out of this scenario until he can figure it out for himself. "And we need to talk about your new fondness for kidnapping," she jokes softly, as she breaks the chaste kiss to look pointedly at her toy.

"Uh," Bruce chuckles. "It wasn't kidnap, the Hulk needed a representative to be here, and he's portable," he defends awkwardly. "Then _he_ decided he wanted to speak to you first. Originally, I was going to lead you home, except then I figured you'd be pissed by the time you got there following the hints Tony got FRIDAY to track your phone so I knew when to send the next clue. It's the next part I haven't figured out yet."

Their lives are spontaneous and off the cuff, this is conversation shouldn't be any different. It's also typical of Bruce. He knows what he wants, an idea on how to achieve it yet has difficulty expressing it, constantly warring with himself on whether he deems himself worthy of it. To her, he is worth all of it. Looking at the beautiful, graceful ring he chose she softens; it's something she'd choose for herself though, right now, the style has little meaning to her as she sees how divided Bruce is over a ring.

"This ring can mean whatever you want it to Bruce," she offers gently. It sounds like an out, but she's learnt over the years giving him the option usually pushes him to make a decision. However, this is the first time she holds her breath as she waits for his answer. She doesn't want any uncertainty hanging over them or cloud his judgement, though the Big Guy's display has made it clear he wants this.

"I need your help with that," he breathes out shakily. "You make me so happy, and I'm happy with what we have."

"But?"

"There is no 'but'," Bruce smiles. "We've been together for a while, and I know others will question if I give you a ring and it doesn't mean that, and I don't want you to field questions that will make you uncomfortable."

Natasha pecks him on the lips. "That's sweet, doesn't answer my question; Bruce, do you want to get married?"

"Do you?"

Her mouth twitches. "I don't think it'd much different from our relationship right now. It's not easy, but we've never had it easy. With our lives, we work at it every day, and I do that because I want you to know you're worth it, our connection is worth it," she sighs. "I was taught emotional attachments make you weak, something an enemy can exploit. Now I know that's wrong; bonds make you stronger, give you something to fight for, to come home too. You make me stronger Bruce and I love you for that." She swallows as her voice begins to catch at the back of her throat. "Never thought I'd say this, but I want everyone to know that."

His hand curls around hers still on his face and pulls it to his mouth to kiss her fingers. "When I met you, I was broken and you healed me, inside out. You helped me conquer my fears. Learning to see myself through your eyes made me see myself as something other than a monster. I know you miss him, but he stays away because he trusts us to protect each other. You make me smile, laugh and love without fear Natasha. You shared your heart with me. I'll be forever grateful that you let me back into your life, you gave me a life I thought was lost to me."

He releases her hand and plucks the ring from the box.

"Natasha," he breathes out. "I love you." He poises the ring between them. She lifts her hand, waiting for the words. "Marry me."

"Yes." Her finger slides into the ring as their lips meet softly.

" _Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage."  
― Lao Tzu_


	5. Welcome Home

**Author Note – I haven't forgotten about** _ **From the Ashes**_ **, the next chapter is being edited and I hope to post it soon – very soon. Hope you enjoy small offering.**

Spies and Scientists – chapter five

Welcome Home

" _Home isn't where you're from, it's where you find light when all grows dark." ―_ _Pierce Brown, Golden Son_

Natasha weaves her way through the sea of people in front of her, tightening her hold on the bag slung over her shoulder. If she was in a hurry, she could find a quicker path except she's content to mull along with the crowd at a steady pace and fit through the gaps as she can. It's been a long week and this is the first moment she's had for herself with no one interfering. Her neck and back are stiff from the long flight and it's a relief to stretch her legs on the way to the taxi rink beyond the glass doors.

Natasha manages to sidestep a child who stops suddenly in the middle of the arrival's terminal. Her mother quickly notices and somehow puts her three bags onto one arm while sweeping up her child with her free one. The little girl drops her teddy in the quick movement and Natasha's stride doesn't break as she swoops down to retrieve it. The mother rewards her with an understanding eye-roll aimed in the direction of her oblivious child and a breathy "Thanks". Natasha hands the toy to the little girl who giggles and the mother interrupts with a gesture indicating that they have to dash before blending back into the crowd. Natasha watches them for a moment, the little girl hanging onto the mothers' neck and waving the teddy at Natasha over her mothers' shoulder till they disappear.

Recovering from her stall, she propels herself back into the throng. She almost falters again after a few steps when she feels the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. Most people are attuned to being watched, it's an instinct not everyone is fully cognizant of. She's been watched more in her life than she hasn't. Be it a handler or an enemy, her senses are honed to it. It only takes a subtle crane of her head to determine whether she's being observed by a friend or foe.

She spots him waiting for her leaning against one of the pillars near the exit. A dark wool coat shrugged on over his rumpled work clothes and she notes with a wry smile that he's actually remembered to take his lab coat off before leaving work. He's wearing a sheepish expression as their eyes meet. He drops his chin at her appraisal, trying to figure out what about his outfit has caught her attention. When he looks back up, absolute confusion written across his face, she offers him a small shrug. Brightening at her response, albeit with a self-conscious smile, he shrugs back and stuffs his hands in the pockets of his coat. _Dork._

She adjusts the strap of the bag, holding it tighter and moves quicker. She's more than capable of hailing a cab to the apartment they share – one of her boltholes, once upon a time – and his sudden appearance is an unexpected, yet appreciated the surprise. The thought of sitting inside of a cab with a driver making an inane attempt at conversation, after a ten-hour flight from Brussels to New York with no less than three screaming children – each competing with the other to be the loudest- on board, was the last thing she wanted. She begrudgingly admits she's been spoilt by years of travelling with Stark in personal jets and the Quinjet. If this trip had been a mission, she would have been travelling via the Facility.

She wasn't comfortable staying in the Facility after it was overrun by Ross's regime, or how they broke under it, Bruce less so once he learnt what transpired in his absence. Wanting to keep him close after two years apart spurred her to offer him her couch to sleep on. It wasn't much but they were all too exhausted after the battle to organise anything else. They needed time to recoup and come to terms with what's happened and they haven't found a place big enough space yet to house the whole team and their needs.

They were in contact daily and met regularly at the Facility to check in. The politicians point blank refused to relinquish it back to their full control during the talks. The team had agreed not to return unless they had free reign; they would assist where ever and whenever they were needed but not reside in any capacity. Stark had returned to a Stark Industries property in Manhattan, complete with a new lab for him and Bruce, while Steve managed to find somewhere in Brooklyn to share with Sam.

It's nearly the two-month anniversary of Thano's attack and confusion runs rife amongst the surviving population. People seemed to skip past the denial of grief for their loved ones to anger and the resulting riots and call for action were growing louder by the day. People want more than empty promises and bargaining for more time wasn't going to cut it much longer. With the tumultuous turn of events, the UN was eager to revise the Accords quickly as they could so the world could start putting itself back together.

With Fury and Hill missing, it is down to her to advise the new committee set up by the UN to oversee and regulate the enhanced following Thanos's massacre without drawing attention. So, she departed and returned via commercial flights from JFK. None of the politicians were impresses with her inclusion but the majority tolerated her presence and experience without dismissing her outright. The look on Ross's face when she asked him a question that he had no answer for during one of his speeches was priceless and worth the trip alone.

Almost.

They'd managed to whip up a fair yet all-encompassing set of guidelines to follow, eventually coming to the conclusion that they needed to protect the world and prepare for the worst; of what they haven't quite established. The loopholes were tiny and with heavy consequences. Ross had fought her every step with his jaded opinions and a smug expression.

Her days away reminded her of the days before they split to have their own little war. She kept it to herself though she knew the others felt it too and stayed away because of it at her insistence. They wouldn't distract her with worrying about them. Though they reunited against Thanos, the tension hasn't dissipated completely and at times, it's still strained. They trusted her to protect their interests and it was difficult knowing their freedom was on her shoulders. It's risk she chose when she inadvertently let them into her life. She doesn't have any biological family, this is the one she chose, but she doesn't know how she would care more for someone with blood ties. There was a moment during the summit when she thought the politicians would vote against her and they'd lose everything.

Again.

It terrified her more than she could admit to herself or any of them during their nightly calls. She's become so accustomed to being with others, stuck in a bubble which makes her too complacent, she was doubting her ability to protect them when she was facing the committee alone. But she'd rather that than risk the rest of her team after what happened last time so she fought back and won the majority vote.

She breathes out to temper her frustration because she doesn't want it to affect Bruce. His sudden appearance means more to her than she can say.

"Hey Doc," she greets him as he pushes off the pillar to stand upright and takes half a step to meet her.

"Hey," comes his sheepish reply looking down at his clothes once again.

That familiar warmth surges in her chest at the endearing reaction, she barely resists the urge to tug one of the open lapels of his jacket just to tease him. Only just though as the back of her hand brushes the fabric anyway. Bruce sucks in a breath as the movement doesn't go unnoticed. Serves him right for surprising her, she thinks. Both gestures scream a deeper intimacy than either has displayed since he returned to Earth.

"You actually remembered to ditch the lab coat," she explains chancing a glance at his face.

Warmth colours his cheeks, his nose twitching adorably as his lips curl up, bashfully admitting, "Only because Pepper reminded me."

She tips her chin downward as the now familiar, loaded tension clouds her head. It's moments like this when she's on the verge of throwing caution out of the window and making a move she's not sure they're ready for.

Bruce is the safe, predictable part of their dilemma.

He's been the perfect picture of understanding, following her lead, giving her space considering they share a one bedroom apartment. Without saying as much, Bruce has made it clear that he's willing to settle for whatever she is comfortable with. They've worked well with what they've done so far and it hasn't interfered with their work or respective roles with the team and she's worried that'll all change if they even broach it in a half-hearted attempt to test the waters between them.

There's a huge question mark hanging over their heads and no one can figure out where they go from here. They're not the only ones in limbo, it would affect how the team functions and she doesn't want to be responsible for another fracture now that they've reunited after so long.

Bruce softly clears his throat to drag her out of her thoughts. "Your chariot awaits," he tells her quietly.

"I don't want to come across as ungrateful but you didn't have to come."

He scratches the back of his neck. "Yeah, well I feel guilty that you had to handle this solo. Hoped this would go some of the ways toward making it up to you."

"Some of the way, what else have you got?" Natasha teases.

"Clean apartment, dinner," he offers, raising an eyebrow in askance.

"Is it only clean because you've slept in the lab?" His pause is all the answer she needs and she hopes he hasn't over-exerted himself with work while she was away. She smirks at him. "Are we picking up dinner on the way home too?"

"Uh, no, that is in the slow cooker as we speak; chicken stew," Bruce promises. She was pleasantly surprised to find that he actually enjoyed cooking soon after moving into the Tower after SHIELD fell; where he took on most of the team evening meals and Natasha never complained when he set a plate down in front of her. Stark dabbled in the kitchen but his repertoire was predominantly breakfast dishes and burgers. Steve was kind of useless unless it was bacon so he had been quickly relegated to regular clean-up duty; which he was okay with as long as he ate. "Unless there's something else you would like," he adds, looking at her earnestly for her answer.

"No," Natasha blinks back. His chicken stew has become one of her favourites and just what she needs after her journey. "That sounds great."

"Right…Um…How was the flight?"

"Better than the summit," Natasha says, falling into step with Bruce when he starts for the exit. "But I survived."

"You always do," Bruce tells her with a sympathetic glance. "It looked rough from what I saw on the news."

"They're still not happy that they can't sic us on whoever they want, which is why no one else volunteered to take my spot on the plane."

She doesn't mind being a part of the talks, her mind is suited to the strategies and she can talk them around without resorting to the techniques she used in her previous life as an assassin; though it would've been nice to have someone to tag in or at least have as a sounding board. And she needs to keep her boys on their toes and let them know she isn't the only one who's going to be fending off the politicians. Rhodey would've been an ideal partner in this; military background as well as experience dealing with committees. Though he is currently on the West Coast taking on one of the latest gangs to test the new order of the world post-Thanos. None of the others has the patience to contemplate going anywhere near the summit and they trust Natasha with their best interests.

"I'm not diplomatic enough for something like that." Bruce wrinkles his nose at her; he's not going to be front and centre during any kind of public appearance let alone a gruelling summit under intense scrutiny. That's fine; they each have their areas of expertise. He can go toe to toe with the next tank which comes at her.

As soon as the automatic door opens, the sky releases a downpour which reminds her that she's back Stateside. The rain drenches them in seconds yet neither falter under the shower as Bruce takes the lead in the direction of the short stay parking. She follows close behind as they weave through the others running for cabs or the parking lot, many opening umbrellas or shielding themselves without stopping. They jump over puddles nestling in depressions in the tarmac and dodge cars lining up for the exit.

He unlocks the car with the remote control when they're about ten feet away. Bruce moves around to the drivers' side while she throws her bag into the back before jumping into the passenger seat. With practised ease, Bruce wipes his glasses off one-handed with a damp tissue from his pocket while his other reaches for something on the backseat. A dark blue sweater is plopped into her lap.

"You need to dry off," he says by way of explanation, slinging his wet jacket through the seats to land with a splutter.

Natasha refrains from replying, just shrugs out of her jacket and tosses it to join his before slipping his sweater on over her slightly damp shirt. Her trousers are soaked through but bearable till they get to the apartment. While Bruce isn't much for self-care, self-preservation taking a priority, he thrives in taking care of others he cares about with little things which are meaningful because they are rare experiences, such as warm clothing after being caught in the rain.

The engine roars to life as soon as he turns the key in the ignition and after the requisite checks, he pulls out of the space, blending in with the traffic as people start the next, and hopefully final, leg of their journeys.

Reaching out to the dash, Natasha flicks the heating then the radio on. She suppresses her smile as the now familiar opera which Bruce listens to stay calm while driving fills the car. The whole scene screams domesticity. While a foreign concept to both of them, it's something they have slowly adapted to. Relaxing into her seat, his jumper warming her, she's not sure she wants to fight it either.

8888

The smell of chicken hits her as soon as they open the door. She follows him into the darkened apartment, shuffling forward so she can shut the door behind them while he heads further along the hall to find the lamp on the table. Soft light filters through the shade and their eyes meet. His eyes drift over the cable knit jumper and skinny black jeans she wore on the plane before meeting her gaze again. She holds it as she closes the distance, smirking at the bobbing of his Adam's apple as she slips past him into the living area.

"If you want to shower and change, I've just got to cook the vegetables," Bruce tells her, heading toward the kitchen.

Nodding she enters her bedroom to find it exactly as she left it a few days ago. Bed made nothing on the floor, her small Hulk figure on her bedside table. She nods to it as if she would the Big Guy himself. Dropping the bag by the door she goes to the ensuite bathroom and starts the shower. She quickly shucks her jeans and let them land on the tile floor. Bruce's jumper is next but she hangs it over the radiator just outside the bathroom to dry from the few drops of rain that caught her during the run from the car to the building. She quickly divests herself of her shirt and underwear.

The hot spray washes away the chill from the rain and the weariness from the last few days. There was a strange sense of relief when she stepped off the plane tonight. She's moved around a lot in her life, never settling, never feeling safe enough. It was the nature of her life. The SHIELD base came close before Barton's farm but there were times she felt like an interloper. They accept her; not in an over the top way which seems fake. Their affection for her was more taxing on her brain; looking back she hates herself for doubting it, assuming it was some form of manipulation because that's what she was taught. It had been the kids who finally convinced her of their true trust; Lila falling asleep on her, Cooper leaning against her while they watched a film. Their faith instilled by their parents' trust in her. Clint and Laura knew about her indecision and stuck with her without imposing themselves. It took a long time for her to accept their love without questioning it.

She finishes the shower quickly and dries off in the steam filled room, wrapping a towel around herself before cracking the small window to let it seep out. Clicking the door shut behind her, she redresses in sweats and a tank top before slipping Bruce's now warm sweater over her head. She pads barefoot into the living room and finds Bruce pouring tea into two cups next to two steaming bowls of stew and vegetables

He looks up from his task and his mouth falls open to say something yet he stops himself as his eyes fall on his sweater. "I'm never getting it back, am I?"

"Probably not," Natasha tells him, wrapping her arms around her. From his responding pause followed by his slow nod, she's pretty sure he likes the look of it on her.

"Well, it's a good thing I don't get emotionally attached to clothes," he quips. "Between you and Hulk, I don't keep them for long."

Natasha rolls her eyes. A few of the shirts which manage to dodge a Hulk-out may have found their way into her drawers either to sleep in or jumpers to wear when she has to admit she's cold. In her mind, her stash doesn't quite equate to those ripped to shreds by Hulk but she'll let him have the point.

"Go sit down, I'll bring this over," Bruce says picking up the bowls.

Natasha complies and swipes the cups of tea as she passes the counter to help him. Making her way to the sofa in the den, she sees cutlery already on the coffee table. Leaving the cups there she crosses the short distance to his laptop on the table in the corner, her feet sinking into the soft pile rug to distinguish the two living spaces. She kills the main light and flips the lamp on as she passes, illuminating the room with a warm glow. Behind her, there's a soft rustling as he moves some of his papers from the sofa, which doubles as his bed, to under the coffee table so they can sit together. He relinquishes the bowls to the table briefly as he sits down and waits for her to join him. She can feel his eyes on her as she turns the laptop on, the bootup sequence running a quick analysis before asking for a password. Without asking him for permission or the password, she types it in only for him to chuckle lightly when the home screen appears, touched to find the group picture taken on their last team meeting. She throws him a look over her shoulder, daring him to challenge her. But he just shakes his with the concession and she turns her attention back to the laptop.

She taps a few keys to pull up his music selection. Finding his jazz playlist, she presses play and adjusts the volume so it's not intrusive on the neighbours or them. Taking her seat on her side of the sofa, he offers her a bowl and a fork as she inhales deeply, closing her eyes as her stomach growls at the first home cooked meal in days. It smells divine but she won't spoil it be admitting she's just as happy as when he makes her a peanut butter sandwich. She tries to fight the idea of how co-dependent this all feels and focuses on the fact that it's okay to let others do stuff for you.

"Thank you," Natasha offers sincerely.

They don't stand on ceremony, just dig in. It's as delicious as it smells and she barely manages to tell him about the summit between successive bites. She doesn't mention Ross or his cronies; she doesn't want either of them to lose their appetite. In turn, he tells her about his latest project with Tony and how their prototype exploded earlier that evening. Before long, their food is gone and Bruce is holding his hand out for her bowl.

"Would you like more?"

"Yes…but I'm full…" she smiles and relishes in the smile which reaches his eyes. She looks over the back of the couch to watch him stacking dishes and utensils for washing. "I'll clean up later, Bruce."

"You sure?" Comes his answer as he finishes washing his hands.

"You cooked; you shouldn't have to clean up." He made dinner for her and he's not messy in the kitchen. She doesn't have the energy to do it yet now she's relaxed.

She breathes out contentedly, crosses her arms and folding the sweater around her body, letting her eyes slide closed. The music slows into something sultrier and she lets it sooth her as he comes back into the living room. Her foot moves of its own accord, the sound absorbed by the rug. Bruce mills quietly in the kitchen, putting the leftovers in the fridge and lets her unwind after her journey. She loses track of time as she drifts with the music. In her head, she goes through the motions of one of the training routines she was taught as a child. Even imagined, the movement soothes her, it gives her the opportunity to process.

Natasha senses Bruce approach minutes later, softly clearing his throat to alert her. Opening her eyes, she finds his shadow at the side of the couch, looking down on her.

"Are you tired?"

"No," she answers regardless of how he found her. Still, she remains in her slumped position, watching him as he tracks his gaze down her body till he stops at her feet which are tapping to the rhythm of the music.

Stepping forward, he extends his hand toward her invitingly. She looks at it for a beat before starting to rise.

"I thought I would be the one asking you to dance Doc," she drawls as she slips her hand into his and lets him draw her to him. She ignores the indecisive part of her brain. Something's got to change this stalemate.

Their hands shift as they come to rest on his chest between them. Her other arm inches its way onto his shoulder, her fingers toying with the curls on his nape. His free arm curls around her and pulls her closer, his hand settling in the small of her back. They start to move to the music slowly.

Bruce isn't as awkward with this as she imagined he'd be and after a few minutes he switches it up by spinning her to break the tension. When he swirls her back to him, both laughing this time, she settles against him easier. The soon lapse into an easy rhythm and she finds herself staring at his Adam's apple.

"Thank you, Bruce, this is just what I needed," she whispers softly and he dips his chin to look at her.

"You've done so much for me, letting me stay here, the Lullaby, I wanted to show some appreciation."

"You're forgetting that I read up on quantum physics to make conversation with you," she reminds him and his eyes darken.

She feels safe enough to let him see what she needs him to, the little fracture which has made her so quiet. His eyes linger on her and she sees the indecision there as he lets their moment pass. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Her sigh is too loud. She stopped questioning his ability to read her long ago. As much as she doesn't want to talk about it, she appreciates that he won't let her get confused or let her distract him from what's bothering her.

"You know when everything is going well, you're terrified of screwing it all up and losing everything? But there is always the risk you could lose it anyway without screwing up?"

"All the time," Bruce intones carefully. She left it open to interpretation for a reason. There's so much she could be referring to. Clearing up after Thanos, the talks, them.

"Does that feeling ever go away?" She tilts her head to the side.

"I'll let you know when it finally does," he promises her gently. He tightens his hold on her waist and she drops her head to his shoulder. She doesn't need to hold on to the façade here. "Welcome home, Nat."

" _What is home? My favorite definition is "a safe place," a place where one is free from attack, a place where one experiences secure relationships and affirmation. It's a place where people share and understand each other. Its relationships are nurturing. The people in it do not need to be perfect; instead, they need to be honest, loving, supportive, recognizing a common humanity that makes all of us vulnerable." ―_ _Gladys Hunt, Honey for a Child's Heart: The Imaginative Use of Books in Family Life_


End file.
